Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
I run my hands
through the grass,
feeling it's genuity,

Knowing the dirt
is underneath my nails
and bugs crawl along.

I feel it
because I want to feel real,
and real things feel.

They feel pain,
they feel pleasure,
and they feel touch.

I just wanted
to remind myself
that I am real,

And I can feel,
I can touch,
and I can be.
christianne
Written by
christianne  19/F
(19/F)   
104
   arizona
Please log in to view and add comments on poems